Still Awake
by Mechanical Prince
Summary: Takes place in S 4 Ep 4/5. General season spoilers. Neal can't sleep, so naturally, he calls Peter.


**Authors Note: I don't own anything even remotely related to White Collar.**

 **Spoilers: Yes. General plot/major events for Season 4.**

 **One person's trash is... probably still another person's trash (sorry). But thanks for reading anyway!**

 ** _xxx_**

 _Brrrrrrrrriiing! Brrrrrrrrriiing!_

Peter groaned, feeling the nightstand for his phone. He pried an eye open to check the time, the neon red light of his alarm clock reading "1:00 AM." A grunt.

This _better not be-_

"Neal?"

"Peter... 'm sho... shorry to-to call you sho late..."

"...Neal, are you drunk?" It took _a lot_ of alcohol for the con man to start slurring. This couldn't be good.

"I... Peterr, I can't shleep." The reek of wine was practically palpable over the receiver.

"I noticed."

"Ish... about-ahbout Ellen. I jusht keep... s _hinking_ about her on that shtretcher... covered in -" Neal choked back a sob. "...I-I can't shleep."

Peter's heart sank. Of course it was about Ellen. Everything happened so quickly, there's no way Neal could have processed it all in a single afternoon.

"Could you cohme ov'r?" Neal's voice was barely a whisper. "...I neegyou."

Neal sounded so small, paper thin, even, as if the slightest gust would blow him away. How could Peter say no? He held the phone to his chest and sighed up at the ceiling, pausing before he turned to Elizabeth.

"Hun? It's Neal."

Elizabeth rolled over groggily.

"He's been drinking, and can't sleep because of," Peter looked down. "What happened to Ellen. He wants me to come over. ...You know I can't leave him like this."

"Go, hun. He needs you." That sentiment again. She settled back into sleep.

"Thanks, El."

"Just call me in the morning!" She shouted after him.

 **xxx**

 _Knock knock knock!_

"Issh unlocked!"

The door flung open and in rushed a very worried FBI agent. He was greeted by the sight of a con man draped over his dinner table, struggling to keep his eyes open amidst an empty wine bottle and litter of beer cans. It stopped him in his tracks.

"Neal, how much have you had to drink?" Peter rounded the table, eyeing Neal as he began tossing cans into the trash.

"Jussh a couple beers..."

Peter growled. "Caffrey."

Neal raised his hands defensively. "It was jush a joke. Don' get your.. sh-suit in a twisht..." He cracked up at his own joke.

"Speaking of... where's Haversham?" Peter checked out the rest of the apartment.

"Home. He lef' at elvin sirty."

"He just left you like this?!"

Neal waved a hand in dismissal. "No... jush a bottle together... kep' drinking when he lef'. Tol' me to go eashy on the-the wine..."

"So you drank all the beer instead. Great. Even when you're _drunk_ you have no trouble finding loopholes." Peter sighed in frustration. Neal just grinned. He tried to get up on his own, but lost his balance, smacking his head back on the table.

"Oush!"

Peter jumped, rushing over to Neal's side. He leaned him back gently to get a look at his forehead. It wasn't bad, just a red mark that would later develop into either a bruise or a bump (or both).

Peter shot Neal a stern look. "Don't do that again," He softened. "If you need something just ask. Now, let's get you to bed." He grabbed Neal's limp arms and maneuvered them so that he was carrying half his weight. Peter practically had to drag him to the bed.

"N-no..." Neal whined. "It won' stop..."

"What won't stop?" Peter managed to prop him up on the bed and took a seat next to him.

"She...!" Neal tipped his head upwards, blinking back tears.

"Oh, Neal..." Peter's stomach twisted, and he pulled his partner to lean on his shoulder once again. With one arm, he gently wrapped an arm around his middle. Peter's free hand grasped Neal's own.

"Peter... I'm so scared." A sudden moment of clarity.

Peter held him tighter.

"You don't have to be... the FBI is working around the clock to find out who did this. We're going to keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"But you!" Neal cried out. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Fuh-first Kate, then Mozzy almost... an-and you were kidnapped, and El-Elizabeth, I'm so, so sorry..." He looked up at Peter with apologetic, sunken eyes. "and now... Ellen too...! Buh-but I can't lose you again. Not again." Neal spoke in-between sobs, inconsolable.

"A-a-and it's all my fault!" He wailed at last, burying his face into Peter's chest.

"Neal." Peter gently lifted his face. "Don't you ever, _ever_ say that again. That's an order." His gaze was soft but stern.

"Bu-"

"I'm serious. Even if you told us to stay away, not to get involved with you, to keep our distance... none of us would have listened. We chose to stay. We all did, because each and every person you just named loves you." Peter stroked his soft black curls. "I know you've been running, but you don't have to anymore. I'm here. I'll always be here. And as long as I am, I have your back. We're more than just partners, Neal. We're friends... family. And none of this was your fault."

Neal's lip quivered. He clung more tightly to the agent.

"You need to get some rest." Peter pried Neal off him and tried moving to the kitchen. His arm was grasped before he could turn away.

"Please... Peter... stay." Neal was pleading, tears still rolling down his cheeks. Peter smiled sadly, stopping to wipe a tear from the young man's face.

"I'm not going anywhere."

His grip loosened in relief. "Thank you." Peter gave him a crooked smile.

"Now then, I'll get you a glass of water." He glanced down and assessed the disheveled con man. "Or a jug."

 **xxx**

Neal arose in the early morning. Sitting up, he found himself nursing a splitting headache and invaded by a strong, sickly, alcoholic taste in his mouth. He checked his breath and winced. A touch to his forehead elicited another wince and uncovered a small bump. Okay... he reviewed last night: he was drinking wine with Mozzy... and then... and then nothing. He couldn't remember. Great. He turned to gauge the damage to his kitchen and saw Peter asleep on the couch. Odd, his kitchen seemed surprisingly clea— wait, Peter?! He rubbed his eyes. Yep, that was FBI Agent Peter Burke, asleep on his couch and still wearing his coat.

 _What the hell is Peter doing here?_

"Mm...? Neal?" The man on his couch shifted, rubbing at stiff shoulders.

Whoops. He'd spoken out loud.

"Peter, what are you...?"

"It's okay, Neal. I know."

Neal's eyes widened and his heart threatened to jump out of his chest. What did Peter know? He didn't remember what he said, let alone _did,_ last night... he couldn't have—

"...What do you mean?" He strained to keep an even tone, nails digging into his palm. Peter looked sympathetic.

"Ellen." He sighed. "See? You never listen... I told you you should take a break."

"Oh! Right." Neal looked down. "...Ellen." He'd forgotten for a moment as he was still reeling from a hangover.

"I meant what I said last night."

Neal perked up.

"And that was...?"

Peter chuckled and shook his head. "Of course you don't remember... you were drunk as a skunk."

"Yeah, and now I smell like one, too."

"Anyway, what I said last night is that I'm here for you. Always."

Neal smiled.

"Thanks, Peter."

"We all are. Elizabeth, Mozzy, the agency, everyone. Just stay out of trouble - no more working with art thieves behind the scenes or going behind my back with some hair-brained scheme you and Mozzy cook up. It's bad for my health to worry like this."

"What, can't keep up with us, old man?" His teasing felt halfhearted, but Peter played along.

"Hey, we're only a few years apart!"

The two laughed as though last night had just been a bad dream. Peter paused to catch his breath.

"...I have to go. Elizabeth's probably waiting."

Neal was slightly disappointed. "Okay. I'll see you at work, then."

"No! No work for the next few days. You need to rest."

"Peter..."

"I mean it, Caffrey. No swinging by the office to 'see how things are going,' only for me to find a case file is missing."

"Okay, okay."

"And no more drinking! I cleaned your kitchen yesterday and it better stay that way." Peter swatted Neal.

"Got it."

"And clean yourself up after I go, you look like the devil dragged you through hell and back."

"Yes, mother hen!" Neal rolled his eyes.

"I saw that, CI, and I may have to write you up for it." Peter walked over to the door, trailed by a still-sleepy Neal. He opened the door and was about to leave, when—

"Peter?"

He turned.

"Thank you for staying with me last night... I can't exactly recall what happened, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

A smile.

"Of course. Oh, and Neal?"

"Yeah?"

Peter leaned in to kiss the bump on Neal's forehead.

"...It's not your fault." He ruffled his hair.

With that, Peter strode down the stairs, leaving a smiling Neal Caffrey alone on the landing.


End file.
